Long Hot Summer
by MyWaywardWinchester
Summary: "Dean had won him over. He'd won the damn bastard over with one damn statement. Castiel, the man who endured centuries of warfare, slaughtered hundreds of his own kind, bled to preserve humanity, and descended from Heaven to Hell and every place inbetween had finally been corrupted." Destiel series. Smut. Rated M for sexual implications/activities and profanity.
1. Part I: Corruption

Car drives to the lake were gruesomely long and, by all means, extraneous when you were an angel of the Lord and had no problem teleporting. The drive reminded Cas just how monotonous plateaus were, flat and dense with forestry for miles on end. It was enough to drive any man to the brink of insanity. How camping was that of an extra-curricular activity among mundanes he would never understand.

Aside from the dreary plantation, it was certainly by all means better than being confined in the bunker. As extravagant as the place may be it isn't worth shoving ice down your clothes when the AC broke down in July humidity. Moreover, ice melts and blends in with the residue from human flesh, which is not a pleasant smell to say the least.

And showers were great, especially when it provided him and Dean the much-needed time to recuperate from hunts, but the disadvantage was the time limit until the tank ran out of cold water and back to square one it was.

Besides, cold showers were hostile to his sensitive skin, and even when Dean was beside him, made for horrible rendezvous to express their piety for one another.

But now Dean was driving them to the lake where he swore would be different, and he trusted the Righteous Man. He was certainly obliged to go with him anywhere albeit still couldn't help but wonder why Dean would choose the superfluous route of transportation.

Then as Dean shifted his attention from the meandering road to Cas's clammy fingers, entangling his own sharp calloused ones, he understood perfectly and long car rides were his new favorite pastime.

* * *

"Cas! Get your ass in here!"

"Dean, I don't know, the water isn't very shallow…"

"It only goes out for eight more feet!" Dean protested, arm gesturing to the far north end of the lake. As much as Cas was hesitant about diving in, he had to admit the stream was beautiful this time of day when it mirrored the sun's golden discharge, casting an aerated glow across the body of water. He hadn't seen anything so vibrant in his life, not even in Heaven before he was cast out.

Dean drew an exasperated sigh; clearly Cas wasn't convinced that he wouldn't drown so Dean was prepared a minute later with counter offer. "I'll keep you safe," he promised, lending out his hand as a life support. Cas faltered grabbing his hand. His only legitimate reason for complying with skinny-dipping was because the man before him was participating—and looking incredibly gorgeous doing so, if he said so himself.

Cas almost immediately fell in sync with the cool imperturbable water hitting his bare skin paired with Dean holding him a thundering heartbeat away. He knew he shouldn't feel this comfortable exposing himself to just anyone, but frankly Dean wasn't just anyone; Dean was everything.

With this notion set firmly in his mind he wrapped both of his hands around the nape of the other man's neck. Dean rejoined by sliding his hands from his shoulder blades to his taut ass, rounding each cheek in his hands before etching small circles around his orifice, as if encrypting a message in a cypher only he and Dean shared. Cas didn't remember quite when but he found his lips indiscreetly meeting his, as if Dean's mouth was his mosque and Cas was a man in desperate need of salvation.

Dean's tongue wrestled with Cas's in his mouth hungrily, both ultimately vying for dominance. Dean slid one hand from his backside, grazing his thigh and neck in order to cup a firm hand around his jawline. Before Dean could draw him nearer, he found Cas' growing erection lapping against his crotch, practically begging for entrance. Dean managed a tight grin, despite fighting to repress his own shaft from swelling to the size of sasquatch, and moved behind him to thrust himself hard into the angel. Cas drew back, biting back on his lips to stifle an orgasm. He was quite certain his face resembled a tomato because he was doing everything in his willpower to retain his thrashing heart from escaping his throat.

He decided to retaliate by running his hands through his tawny perspiration-soaked hair and hovering his lips just over his ear, breathing something imperceptible before sinking ravashing bites into his pastel flesh. Dean arched back, which served as time for Cas's dick to recharge before he came. Soon it became more of a battle between the men, survival of the fittest as Cas would so rightfully label it later, over whom would crack first.

Cas was certain he would reign over Dean, so certain that he had him wrapped around his finger, until Dean was thrusting into him again harder and with both hands around his shaft, which at this point was probably bleeding from retaining pre-come.

This time Dean was the one to lean over and whisper into his ear in a voice so sublime it should have been criminal, "Just because you're a celestial being doesn't mean I can't fuck that pretty little head of yours into thinking this is right..."

It was that simple sentence that finally lead to his physical demise and he couldn't hold his bodily fluids any longer. Dean had won him over. He'd won the damn bastard over with one damn statement. Castiel, the man who endured centuries of warfare, slaughtered hundreds of his own kind, bled to preserve humanity, and descended from Heaven to Hell and every place inbetween had finally been corrupted.

Dean simply held the angel in his arms through a surprisingly chilly night in his car. Cas bundled up in Dean's jean fleece and Dean smiling down at his contentment before they drifted off into a long and tranquil slumber.


	2. Part II: Competition

The sun was veiled behind the morning mist when he awoke the next morning. A cool breeze swept over the smoky atmosphere, tickling the nape of his neck as Dean's eyes scoped Cas at the far end of the lake. He was most likely cleansing himself from last night's events.

He loved watching Cas in this state; so natural and seemingly at peace. He watched vigilantly from the Impala; he was bent down and ghostly tracing the deep ridges in his shoulders to his collarbone and down to the area he presumed was his crotch from Dean's angled view. He had to do everything in his authority not to cum right there, especially since these were the only pair of clothes he packed.

He and Cas hadn't expected to stay more than a few hours. Dean had been betting on the weather being seething hot for its consecutive one hundredth day, but instead got both a genuinely nice and unpleasant reality. He loved the cold, but unfortunately because of his damn luck he was stuck with his wonted plaid and jeans for the time being.

Fuck it; all the more reason to hold a quavering Cas.  
Except angels couldn't feel cold.  
**Fuck.**

He stirred from his musings long enough to catch another glimpse of what the angel was actually doing. He was still bent down (the amount of endurance he had to have had not to shove himself inside that tight ass), but both of his hands had vanished from plain sight. His head was aimed at the ground and his mouth was slightly ajar painstakingly. Small, hoarse moans were escaping his lips.

Dean couldn't find the notion to wipe the large grin tugging on his face.

For a mere second, he almost felt bad about stealing Cas's clothes.  
_Almost._

Cas craned his head in his direction, as if feeling the weight of Dean's smile on his back, then turned swiftly.

"What?"

Cas pursed his lips and dispelled his thoughts, returning to his bathing. Dean stifled a snicker. He turned abruptly once more, this time his aqua eyes meeting Dean's emerald. Dean slammed his jaw. Cas shifted his eyes, lingering a little longer on the hunter before turning away once more.

That was it. That was all it took for Dean to burst out cackling, submitting to the cruelty of his own wicked scheme.

Cas stood up, clearly jaded with Dean's antics at only seven in the morning. He sauntered to the human-water dripping from practically every inch of his small frame-and gave him his famous I'm-a-fucking-angel-of-the-Lord glare. Droplets of saltwater cascaded from his black tresses and down his primitive facade. Dean had to hesitate from wiping them away. As his eyes trailed his familiar length, he mapped out the small things that made him Cas; from his broad shoulder blades to his taut stomach and his skin tag just above his left thigh that only he had the privilege of seeing... his long dick and his firm legs born for straddling... and his toes that recoiled whenever he was apprehensive..  
He was perfect. And he had him all to himself.

"Dean," Cas reiterated sourly for what must have been the ten thousandth time, "Dean, what the hell are you laughing at?"

"I-uh... nothing, I-"

"Where are my clothes?"

That's it. He was soiled, and not in a good way.

"I may have stolen them."

"May have?" Dammit. He couldn't focus on Cas with his bare body dangling in front of him like fucking fish bait.

Cas heaved a sigh, crossing a demeaning hand over his hip and rolling his eyes. "I knew it. I should have known never to trust a Winchester when you're nude."

He pulled out something from thin air. The feeble sunlight cast a reflection off of the silver before Dean's smile dissipated and his eyes widened...

"My keys... how the hell?" He raised his arm while absentmindedly scraping his subliminal thoughts for a logical explanation.  
Oh yeah, celestial being. **Fuck.**

He threw his arms up in defeat. "I don't even want to know where you were hiding that."

"It is not of import." Cas winked and Dean knew he would have to get a new set of keys.


	3. Part III: Powers of Reverse Persuasion

"Dean. I demand to know what this is about."  
Dean choked back a laugh... and his pride dwindling between his legs at the moment. He had to remember he wasn't doing this for exclusive purposes-that was excluding the time that he dragged Cas to that shabby hooker bar. That, he would plainly admit it to, was for his own twisted amusement. Not like he was initially _planning_ on Cas to run off the hottest chick in the shack... but he wasn't completely senseless to the fact that it wouldn't have happened, Cas being so tactless at the time. And c'mon, what kind of a man didn't look absolutely adorable with his clothes half-torn and a scolded puppy look plastered on his face? Even he, Dean Winchester, macho man had to level down to using the term adorable.  
No, this situation made that look like the looming of a second apocalypse. He was only trying to help. It was Cas's fault for being such a big baby about this, literally. Writhing and whining over his shoulder didn't help in his defense.  
"Cas, you're too old for this sort of treatment. Man up." Yes, this was discipline. Besides, Cas asked for it when sulking around the tent became habitual for the angel. It was the outdoors, for Christ's sake. The least he could do was humor him by starting a small fire at night and huddling closer to him for warmth.  
Meanwhile, he's the one burning wood. And not the good kind.  
"I'm telling on you!" he cried, thrashing forward. Dean stilled in his place, somehow maintaining his balance with a one hundred and a half pound cherub perched on his shoulder. Now he was definitely humored.  
"Oh, and who might you tell?"  
"_Sam_! He's bigger!"  
Dean laughed at how blatant his tone was to a five year old's.  
"Oh really? Well, odds would have it, he's my brother which in turn means he's the Robin to my Batman. Which _also_ means you're at a loss there, Crybaby."  
"Am not!" he pouted failing to grasp the reference and lashing his fists into Dean's chest. "Put me down, Dean!"  
"Oh see, that's where you're wrong, Cassie. Let's not leave out the tiny detail that you're still a celestial being, remember? You could've Houdini'ed your way out of this hold ten minutes ago but you didn't which means you like me carrying you like this. I'm not dumb, Cas. I can feel your lady parts twitching on my collarbone."  
Cas sighed, rolling his eyes because he knew Dean couldn't see that much. Or maybe he could because he's so **perceptive** now and all.  
Then again he wasn't exactly wrong about the spasmodic sensations in his lower region. He loved it when Dean toyed with him, treated him like a child. And somewhere past Dean's aching cock-some place where Dean could feel _emotionally-_Cas knew that Dean was enjoying him slung over his shoulder, too.  
But he wouldn't tell Dean he was right. No, that would be a waste of perfectly untapped oxygen.  
"Dean..."  
The hunter could hear the silent plea in his tone. This was too great. Later he would have Cas down on his knees, gripping his naughty parts and begging even louder...  
"Alright, I'll let you go if you promise to enjoy the camping experience."  
Cas groaned. "How much longer will we be here?"  
"As long as it takes."  
Cas shifted himself so that Dean's hand was cupping his ass, positioning him just a little higher than the hunter but just enough to meet his bemused gaze. "Deal as long as I get more..." He let his voice trail off to kiss Dean fully on the mouth, tongue barely inching its way in. Cock tease. Especially given his position; Cas's half-hard cock brushing a little too gracefully against his abdomen. His face was an unflattering insipid, but underneath he was sure his skin was flushed bright pink. Clothes were deceiving... and restricting.  
Cas knew exactly what he was doing to him which made it all the more flustering. Where did he learn to be so sly? That fucker.  
"There will be plenty more of that _after_ I see you enjoying yourself, Debbie Downer," he countered, pulling away. Two could play at this game.  
Cas growled, their foreheads still pressed firmly together. "But...I'd rather like to think that I've been enjoying myself."


End file.
